Big Don and the vagabond days.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, for a very short time, I lived in Jackson, Wyoming. I was a squatter, a gypsy, camped out in my little sister's basement on a futon with a wooden wine crate for a bedside table, just like in college. Only I was 30 years old, still clinging … Continue reading Big Don and the vagabond days.

Summer 1980.

What began with The Shining, released on Memorial Day weekend, ended, a week after Labor Day, with Ordinary People. In between were Caddyshack, The Blue Lagoon, Airplane!, Brubaker, Urban Cowboy and He Knows You're Alone. It was the summer of Luke and Laura, of Funkytown, Magic and Sailing. The United States led a 65-country boycott … Continue reading Summer 1980.

100 years of solitude.

I saw my 29 year old self this week, standing underneath the replica of Sue, the dinosaur, in the United Airlines Customer Service line, Terminal 1, O'Hare. She, young me, was explaining to the customer service agent, nicely at first, that she'd missed her connection and really needed to get home. Wasn't there any way … Continue reading 100 years of solitude.

The solace of a Southern kitchen.

Sophie Coors, the Southern folk-style artist, taught my sister to blow spit bubbles. They were at some fancy seated luncheon, the kind with strict expectations for behavior - a wedding or graduation party or New Year's formal event that required Margaret's attendance, participation and compliance. Margaret was not the compliant type, especially not at that … Continue reading The solace of a Southern kitchen.